


Breaker of Chains

by Iane_Casey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Been dying to actually write this fix it since that damned episode aired, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Jon actually grows a bit of grey matter and doesn't trust blindly, Jon killed the Night King bc why the hell not, Lol ignore my tagging, S08E04 fix it fic, S8 jon was really stupid and this chapter shows that but we'll remedy it in chapter 2, i mean... there will be lemons tho!, northerners suck - they suck so bad I used the word north over maybe 8 times in this short chapter, tbh though was there really a season 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iane_Casey/pseuds/Iane_Casey
Summary: A wise man once told Jon Snow that love was the death of duty. He had believed it then, but not anymore. He should be able to love freely and fulfill his duty to his family and his people. But as Daenerys grew more concerned about the truth of his identity coming to light, and Sansa seemingly growing bolder in her animosity, Jon decides to practice caution and in doing so uncovers truths he needs to come to accept sooner rather than later.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 19
Kudos: 59





	Breaker of Chains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsaboutvale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaboutvale/gifts).



> Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Vale! This one's for you! It is a two-parter inspired by your prompt: Post-battle where they really talk about Jon’s parents (like that scene in S8 when Dany comes to his room and finds him drunk). 
> 
> This is a fix-it two-shot where I attempt to make Jon less stupid. I hope you like it, and smut will be in the next chapter (which should arrive within this coming week/end)! I'm really sorry it took a bit of time before I was able to write something for you.

Nary a soul sought the Stranger’s favour. Mayhaps, if they had, more lives would have been spared. The Stranger made no distinction between stature, taking from the nobility and the common folk. 

It was the Night King, however, with his army of wights and walkers who had taken from the living, not one of the Seven. 

The war had taken its toll on every man and woman who had drawn sword and strength to fight, on every family who awaited news of the war, the fallen. There was a silence that cannot be broken for the past few days; a great mourning for the fallen, and a mass reflection on what they’d endured and overcome, against all odds. 

Favoured by the gods, they had emerged victorious, but not without cost. Thousands lay dead, the true heroes of their lands. As soon as can be arranged, a great pyre will honour them all. 

Stretching as far as the eye could see, decay and destruction surrounded them. How they managed to survive the night, Jon Snow would never know, but he was grateful.

The battle had felt like a lifetime, with no certainty of how it would end, and very little hope of victory. All he knew was that he had to keep on, keep fighting. 

A sliver of moonlight tore him from his musings, and he turned his head to see Daenerys moving amongst the sea of people setting up the pyres. 

Something within Jon broke at the sight of her, guilt creeping up his veins, laced with disappointment in himself. A wounded dragon,  _ his woman _ , alone amidst his pack- and he had left her alone with the wolves. 

They had prevailed, but no one had lost more than Daenerys. She was their true saviour, with her dragons and army. Without her, he would not even have had the opportunity to kill the Night King. 

If Daenerys Targaryen had not come to aid the North, the kingdom would have fallen, and he and his people would have died and risen to do the Night King’s bidding. 

Jon inhaled sharply when dull lilac eyes met his, her empty gaze jarring. He turned away, his thoughts muddling with the truth of their relations, of how he had bedded his true father’s sister. His  _ aunt _ . Gods forgive him, he wanted her in spite of it all. 

How could he convince her that he did not want what she sought? 

He had pledged his sword to her, pledged his life. 

She was his queen. 

* * *

Weeks passed, with every able-bodied man toiling in the snow and cold to clear as much as the debris and pile body after body onto the mass pyres, the stench of death permeating the very air they breathed and the soil they walked. 

Only in summer would the lands flourish and cover the memories of war. 

Weeks passed before all the bodies were collected and the pyres were built, and then the time came to say a final farewell to the ones they had lost. 

The pyres were lit and they burned for days, and with it, everyone knew more would come, for another war was upon them.

* * *

Northerners were cold and fickle- Daenerys had felt it in their welcome, and she felt it even more so, now.

She watched as they feasted, drank themselves to a quick merry stupor as the night progressed, and praised one another- Jon included- for their bravery and sacrifice. They were well within their rights to do so, but it was unsettling how none of the praise extended to her and her people.

Truly, all she desired was a semblance of genuine acknowledgement that she had made a difference in their odds, that her people had worked with his to fight for the living. That they could find common ground through a common cause. For a brief moment after the war it had felt as though they were getting there, but now she was slowly being seen as the enemy for wanting them to march with her to claim her throne. 

There was no winning with the North.

After coming to aid them and losing legions of her army from the battle, they still looked at and treated her people differently. They still looked at  _ her _ differently. 

There was no love for southerners in the north. 

There was no love for  _ her _ . 

It did not help that Sansa Stark would never truly bend the knee. The pretty wolf would keep undermining her and her brother’s authority to try and get independence for her frigid kingdom, so she can rule as queen. She was manipulative and cunning, Daenerys would give her that. 

The only way to secure her fealty was to have Jon talk to her and convince her to bend the knee in front of her people. But he wouldn’t do that- he still did not understand her meaning. She was losing faith in that he ever would, doubt and fear slithering into her heart and mind, but she loved him with a strength that terrified her, so emotions whirled within her like the seas that had ferried them to his home. 

There was no pleasing the North and its people, she knew that now. 

So long as they acknowledged her sovereign, she would stop trying to gain their favour and love. It was all up to Jon to rally them to her cause. She should simply set her eyes south and call the northern banners to return the favour they cannot deny they owe her. 

Throughout the night she sat at the head table, watching and smiling as they praised Jon’s skill in battle and dragon-riding, and the fighting prowess of many other people that were neither her nor hers, and anger and resentment festered within Dany at the togetherness they all radiated. 

A foreigner she would always be. 

An ally, but no true friend of the North. 

Daenerys rose from her seat and walked out of the Great Hall, knowing they would not even notice her leave. 

* * *

“Are you drunk?”

The last thing he would have imagined her doing that night was visiting his chambers. Truthfully, he wished she hadn’t, at least not that night. 

He was not clever with words, was barely even good at them, but he was exceptionally worse after going through his cups. 

“No,” he lied, staggering slightly after taking a step. “Only a little,” he chuckled quietly. 

Sighing, he watched as she closed the door behind her and approached him. He eyed her movements uncertainly, swallowing the lump in his throat as she stopped halfway. 

Thinking through the ale that has dulled his ability to speak intelligently, he uttered the first thought that came to him. 

“I didn't know Ser Jorah well, but I know this,” he lifted his head so he can seek her eyes. It hurt him to see the caution in her posture and the way she tried to hold her composure the same way she had during the first few weeks he had known her. 

Choosing his words wisely as best he could, he continued, saying, “If he could have chosen a way to die, it would have been protecting you.”

At the look on her face from his words, he was certain he may have made a mistake. 

“He loved me.” He nodded. A blind man could have seen the love Ser Jorah had for his queen. 

“And I couldn't love him back.” He lowered his eyes for a heartbeat, but raised them when he heard her footsteps.

“Not the way he wanted.” Dany’s piercing gaze softened, a sign of the woman he loved resurfacing. 

“Not the way I love you.” 

The heat of her called out to him when she drew closer, and his arms immediately drew her closer, his palms finding solace on the small of her back. 

Who was deserving of this woman’s love? All but her dragons, Missandei, and Grey Worm had disappointed her eventually, himself included. And there he stood, wanting nothing more than to take her to bed and plead for her forgiveness for his folly. For his lack of conscientiousness when it came to ensuring his people respected her as they should. That his  _ family  _ respect her as their queen at the least. 

“Is that all right?”

For the gods! He didn’t deserve her, but he would strive to be. 

The blood coursing through his veins sang, and no amount of ale would prevent him from wanting her, his cock already stirring against her covered heat as he dove to claim her mouth in a kiss he’s craved since the last time he’d tasted her before the war. 

It felt like coming home, the warmth of her mouth upon his, breathing as one as they kissed, starved of one another’s lips for far too long. 

Jon’s hand slid up to cup the side of her face, holding her firmly so that he may kiss her more thoroughly, desperate for the moment to last as long as it possibly could. The moment the kiss ended would be the moment reality crashed down upon them once more. And maybe Dany felt the same for she drew him closer, allowed him to kiss her deeper, to start tugging at the laces of her gown. 

Her tongue tasted of wine, but the scent of her ignited his senses. Lavender and something else exotic he could never remember the name of, but it was intoxicating. 

He wanted her. Nobody else but her. Daenerys Targaryen. His true father’s sister. 

The moment shattered when she started tugging at his belt. 

He yearned for her, but how could he bed her knowing she was his family? 

* * *

Prying his mouth from hers, Dany watched Jon breathe raggedly, guilt and despair coating his eyes. Her heart broke for him, for  _ them _ . 

Her heart shattered when he pulled away entirely and turned his back to her. 

Closing her eyes, Dany exhaled, “I wish you'd never told me. If I didn't know, I'd be happy right now.” She turned to face him, hoping he would look at her so she could at least try to decipher his true feelings. 

“I try to forget,” she continued, sitting on his bed. “Tonight I did for a while, and then I saw them gathered around you. I saw the way they looked at you. I know that look. So many people have looked at me that way, but never here. Never on this side of the sea.”

Sometimes she feared that the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would look at her the way the people of the north do. She had never had to force herself upon those she ruled- she was not going to start now. If that happened, would she have wasted her time in seeking a throne that would not be worth the trouble in the end? That was the ultimate question. And the only thing she knew was she had to try and see if the change she envisioned was something Westeros would be happy to embrace.

“I told you I don't want it.”

Her love was a fool who could not see though she loved him still. 

“It doesn't matter what you want!” she turned her head to look at him, incensed at his rationale. 

“You didn't want to be King in the North,” she reminded him. “What happens when they demand you press your claim, and take what is mine?”

That made him look back at her. She did not need his comfort, she needed him to trust that she knew how this game was played, and that the people around them would never stop playing it, no matter how much they looked like they weren’t. Jon was too noble to see, but their world was not painted merely in black and white. 

It frustrated her that Jon would neither see reason nor hear her out. 

He kneeled before her, a hand on her thigh to try and soothe her.

“I'll refuse,” he reassured, as though those two words alone would comfort her. 

“You are my queen. I don't know what else I can say.”

He was also her only family left.

They’d only just found one another. 

She held his face, desperate as she beseeched, “You can say nothing. To anyone, ever. Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy, and tell no one else.”

He pulled away and stood, but she had to tell him what she needed him to do. His family would rip them apart, and he was the only one she had left besides Missandei and her dragons. 

“Or it will take on a life of its own and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people. No matter how many times you bend the knee, no matter what you swear.”

Taking hold of his hand, she said, “I want it to be the way it was between us.”

They should have never disembarked from the boat. It was wishful thinking, but everything had been perfect then, adrift at sea. 

He took her hands between his and squeezed comfortingly as he said, “I have to tell Sansa and Arya.”

It was challenging to rein in her frustration. She had never wanted to sound like the irrational lover, but she knew she would not win against his family. Still, she tried, and would continue to do so. He was her family, too. 

Taking a composing breath, she tried to tell him calmly, “Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne.” 

“She won't.” Oh, how blind he was. 

“She's not the girl you grew up with,” she reasoned, “Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her.”

“I owe them the truth.”

“Even if the truth destroys us?” 

“It won't.” Her heart broke at his blindness, at his faith in his family’s honour and what he thought they deserved from him when they had rarely ever considered him, at least based on his stories. 

Mayhaps, it was a losing battle and he would never see things from her perspective. It felt as though he’d stuck a knife in her heart, the way he was shrugging off her concerns. 

“It will,” she said definitively, eyes nearly watering at the desperation she felt. 

Gripping his arms, she whispered, “I've never begged for anything, but I'm begging you. Don't do this. Please.”

* * *

Jon could never have imagined the desperation in Dany’s voice. Truly, it gave him pause. Within him battled his duty to his family and his love for the woman standing before him, beseeching him to not reveal the truth of his parentage to his family.

Hoping to placate her, he cupped the sides of her head in his hands. 

“You are my queen. Nothing will change that. And they are my family. We can live together.”

There was nothing for her to fear.

His words must have caused more anger than comfort. For her eyes steeled once more, and her back straightened as she took his hands from her face. 

“We can.” Her tone cold and hard. “I've just told you how.”

Jon let her leave, knowing there was nothing he could say to make her stay and ease her fears. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know a good deal of this came from the episode, but hey, it's a fix-it with some revisionist stuff going around. I've not written in a while, so do forgive the slight rustiness. There should be more original content in the next chapter that veers off of the events in that epi.


End file.
